


Null

by LeaXIII



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaXIII/pseuds/LeaXIII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim stopped dead in his tracks as footsteps became audible behind him. He whirled around, so quickly that the camera took a long moment to refocus. Alex stood before him. (AU-ish. What if it had been Tim in Entry 80 instead of Jay?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Null

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for mentions of blood, self-harm, and suicide ideation.

_The basement of Benedict Hall seemed unnaturally dark on the footage from the chest camera, darker even than it had appeared through Jay’s eyes much later, in the middle of the night, when he’d finally broken a window and made his way in, when he’d found the small chest cam abandoned in a pool of blood._

_Tim walked slowly through the dusty hallways, pausing only for a moment to shake one of his pills free from the bottle. The sound was unbearably loud, echoing through the old building, but Tim either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He continued along his path, shining his flashlight carefully into each room as he passed._

Jay bursts noisily through the unlocked back door of Tim’s house, still not bothering to question why he’s allowing himself to hope that he’ll find his friend here, maybe a bit confused and maybe no longer considering  _him_  a friend after what he desperately hopes wasn’t actually their final interaction, but otherwise alive and well. He sinks to the carpet when he sees the broken zipties where he’d left them, undisturbed. He wonders if things might’ve gone differently if he’d stayed, if he hadn’t followed Tim and accidentally made himself obvious, or if he’d done so purposefully instead and had a chance to apologize.

It doesn’t matter. He lifts himself off of the floor as something almost like resolve spreads through his chest.

_Tim stopped dead in his tracks as footsteps became audible behind him. He whirled around, so quickly that the camera took a long moment to refocus. Alex stood before him. Tim didn’t react for a few seconds, likely frozen in place by the sudden appearance._

_Alex raised the gun._

_Tim turned, tried to run. The camera jolted forward with a burst of distortion as an ear-splitting shot rang out, and the picture went dark for a moment as the camera was pressed to the concrete floor._

Jay finds a half-empty pack of cigarettes in Tim’s kitchen. He slips one between his teeth. It takes several seconds of fumbling before he finally manages to light it successfully. He hasn’t had a cigarette since he was fifteen, when he’d snaked one from his father’s room out of curiosity; the first drag makes him choke violently, and the room becomes a blur of color as tears form in his eyes.

It doesn’t matter. He lets the smoke into his lungs, relishing the burn.

_Tim was coughing, gasping in pain. Through the distortion, his voice was barely audible, and it almost sounded like he was calling Jay’s name. The camera turned along with Tim, and Alex came into the frame once more, much closer, gun in hand._

“ _Alex…please, just_ stop _!” Somehow, Tim’s voice didn’t waver, even as Alex levelled the gun at his head._

_Alex didn’t speak. The only sounds that could be heard were a brief burst of distortion as a shadow flickered to life behind Alex, and Tim’s ragged breathing as Alex placed a finger on the trigger._

Jay sits in the middle of the living room, running a finger along the blade of the steak knife he’d used to cut himself free, already so long ago. He’s not sure if he really trusts himself to do anything more, to feel the weight of it in his hand, especially when he presses a bit too hard and watches with nothing more than fascination as a small patch of red blooms across the metal.

It doesn’t matter. He listens to the creak of the door and the click of a gun behind him. 


End file.
